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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25486780">What is their favorite feature of their partner’s? (Dean's Version)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomethingBlue42/pseuds/SomethingBlue42'>SomethingBlue42</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>OTP Question Meme [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angsty Schmoop, Castiel Being an Asshole (Supernatural), Dean Winchester Can't Say No to Castiel, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, M/M, Mechanic Dean Winchester, Poet Castiel (Supernatural), Soft Dean Winchester, Sweet Castiel/Dean Winchester, Wedding Fluff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 02:35:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,328</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25486780</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomethingBlue42/pseuds/SomethingBlue42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>You called me “a tactile individual” in one of your letters (I had to look that up by the way - no fair using your big ivy league brain on the grease monkey with the GED) and you’re right. I do love you with my hands and love when you love me with yours.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel/Dean Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>OTP Question Meme [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1828084</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>76</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>What is their favorite feature of their partner’s? (Dean's Version)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>
  <a href="https://deanwinchesterfirstofhisname.tumblr.com/post/622737293151715328/otp-question-meme-master-list-who-is-the-most#_=_">otp question meme master list</a>
</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="">
<p></p><div class=""><p>“You seem stressed.”</p></div><div class=""><p>Castiel glared into the mirror, his brother smirking at him over his shoulder then returned his gaze to his tie that was, once again, backwards. He growled as he undid it to start over again. Dean always tied his tie for him but Dean wasn’t allowed to see him yet. A stab of longing hit him, the same one that had been poking at him the entire day, the entire past week really.</p></div><div class=""><p>The wedding was Castiel’s idea. He kept reminding himself of that. This was exactly what he’d wanted. Big venue, family and friends, a string quartet for the procession, and a five-piece band for the reception. White roses mixed with hydrangeas and magnolia leaves. Ties and dresses the perfect shade of green to compliment Dean’s eyes. </p></div><div class=""><p>Dean had wanted to go to Vegas. A smile tugged at the corner of Castiel’s lips but it fell quickly. He <em>missed</em> him.</p></div><div class=""><p>He was being ridiculous. They were getting married. They <em>literally</em> had the rest of their lives together. Divide and conquer was the easiest solution to last-minute additions, picking family up from the airport and what seemed like a million other small tasks that needed to be done leading up to their big day. Being too busy for anything but a quick peck on the cheek before they were off to the next thing was a small price to pay for the perfect day. Hadn’t Castiel been saying that all along? </p></div></div><div class="">
  <p>There was a knock on the door and Castiel looked over to find Sam poking his head in, his face lighting up as he let himself all the way into the room. He held up an envelope.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Special delivery for the soon-to-be Mr. Winchester.” Sam wiggled it at him and Castiel frowned. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Castiel sighed. Couldn’t the caterer wait to get the last half of their payment until after the ceremony? Or maybe it was the band... ”What is it?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It’s the last of your 30-day wedding letter writing thingy.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Castiel smacked himself on the forehead. They’d spent the last month following a list of daily prompts for love letters leading up to their wedding day. Castiel had written his in batches, leaving them for Dean on the driver’s seat of the Impala every morning and tried not to be annoyed when it was well into the afternoon before Dean got around to giving him his.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Shit,” Castiel muttered shuffling over to his bag, pulling out the last of his stationary, the final prompt scribbled on a post-it stuck to the front. “Favorite feature”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Don’t tell me you forgot to write your <em>last</em> <em>letter,”</em> Gabriel teased, side-eyeing Sam who had the decency to try and hide his smile. “After all the bitching you did about Dean trying to double up when he missed a day-“</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Shut up Gabriel.” Castiel’s voice was sharper than he meant it to be, sitting at the small table to write his letter. He’d wanted to save this one for the day-of, thinking it’d be extra special.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Castiel glanced over at Sam who was tapping the envelope against the tips of his fingers as he leaned down to speak quietly with Gabriel. It was one of the standard security envelopes they used to pay their rent. Castiel looked down at his $40 stationary set with specialty fine-tipped pen, all archival quality, and matching the paisley pattern Castiel had chosen for the groomsmen’s ties. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It was all just too much. Dean didn’t care about any of this. So he decided to take a page from his future-husband’s book, tossing the stationary aside and peeling off the post-it note before he scribbled “your dick” under the prompt.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Give me that, Sam.” Castiel stood, holding out a hand and Sam sprung into action, handing over the envelope with great care. His brows creased as Castiel ripped it open and pulled the piece of creased notebook paper out before shoving the post-it note in and thrusting the envelope back at Sam.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Uh.” Sam looked down at it, seemingly at a loss for words. “Is... are you sure you-” Sam’s mouth snapped shut at the look Castiel gave him and looked to Gabriel who was eyeing his brother.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"We’re gonna give you some space, buddy.” Gabriel reached out and patted Castiel’s bicep, a placating gesture that only made Castiel frown more. “Only got-” Gabriel shot out his cuff to glance at his watch and gave a low whistle, “-twenty minutes before the big show.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Gabriel clapped Sam on the shoulder and started herding the younger man out of the room. Sam looked like he wanted to say something but ultimately gave up, exiting with Gabriel who pulled the door shut behind him. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Castiel sighed, looking down at the creased and crookedly folded note in his hand before he shook his head and threw it down on the footstool next to the full-length mirror, going back to his examination of himself. His suit was perfect, exactly what he’d wanted, sage jacket and pants with a slate gray vest, sky blue shirt, and paisley tie. Sophisticated and stylish. Dean would compliment it in a slate gray suit and vest paired with a paisley shirt and sage ascot. The dork loved an ascot.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Castiel looked down at the note again and sighed, snatching it up to unfold it. It ripped a little at one of the folds and Castiel winced, peeling back the layers more carefully to find the entire page filled with Dean’s neat copperplate. His handwriting varied as did the color of the pen he’d used. Things were scratched out and extra words squeezed in here or there by use of a carat. Castiel’s brows furrowed as he began to read.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>Cas,</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>So it’s finally here, your big day! You’ve worked so hard over the past year to make sure everything would be perfect. I know I’ve been pretty useless and you’ve been frustrated because I don’t care much about the place settings or the font on the invitations. I mean I do CARE but not as much as you... and really only because you care so much about it. If you want a perfect day I want you to have it, right down to the green - excuse me, sorry, SAGE - shoelaces and that includes this, the final installment of The Sapfest Chronicles, so here it goes:</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>Favorite Feature: I’m sure you’re expecting some smart ass answer for this like, “your dick”</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Castiel snorted, shaking his head.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>And it’s my second favorite dick, don’t get me wrong, but we are so much more than our dicks, Cas. Didn’t you tell me that once? Or yelled it after you told me you loved me for the first time and I said “I know” not realizing you wouldn’t get the EXTREMELY ROMANTIC significance of it. Honestly, I should have known but when you said it, that you loved me -ME! -for the very first time, I remembered being four years old, watching the VHS tucked between my mom and dad and Sam was kicking me in the ribs from inside the womb. I had the same floaty feeling in my chest when you said it as when I was a kid and I get it every time you tell me to this day, ten-some-odd years later.</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p><em>So, not your dick. Not your eyes either, though obvious choice. Your voice, panty-dropper as it is, came close but when I took the time to think about it, like </em>really<em> think about it, on my way to work to distract myself from opening your letter while driving. Or on my break eating the entirely-too-healthy lunch you packed for me. Or on my way home, trying not to speed because if I got pulled over I definitely wouldn’t catch you before you ran out to do final wedding crap. </em></p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>It wasn’t until I was laying in bed next to you, up before my alarm like damn always and you, unconscious and drooling while making that cute little snuffle noise that I don’t call a snore only because calling it a snuffle pisses you off more than saying your snore. The sun was just starting to come up and I laid there facing you watching as your features became clearer. I always hold your hand in the morning, did you know that? It’s right there flat against the bed between us and I’m able to slip my palm under yours, line up our digits and press my rough fingertips to yours, softly calloused from all those book pages and computer keys. </em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>It was laying there, palm to palm that I realized I couldn’t get enough of your skin. You called me “a tactile individual” in one of your letters (I had to look that up by the way - no fair using your big ivy league brain on the grease monkey with the GED) and you’re right. I do love you with my hands and love when you love me with yours. I love the feel of your lower back, warm when I rest my hand there while you’re smelling the rind of every melon in the bin in the grocery store. I love smudging my thumb against the line between your eyebrows when you concentrate too hard. I love grabbing your face with both hands while you’re yelling at me and kiss you until you’re not mad anymore. I love pressing my mouth to the faint line at your hip bones where your swim trunks sit and my tongue is very familiar with the taste of that freckle under your nipple. </em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>You know me inside out, the only person I’ve let take me skin on skin and your touch has healed something in me that’s been broken nearly my whole life. I’m a better man for loving you and despite your insistence otherwise, I will never deserve you. I plan on spending the rest of my life working at being worthy of you, Castiel Novak-soon-to-be-Winchester.</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Yours, Forever and Always, Dean</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>P.S. I apologize in advance for wrecking whatever it is that I’m bound to wreck on your perfect day. I know I botched the letters pretty good and I’m sorry about that. Yours were just so good, this simple mechanic could never come up with anything like the “melodious prose” (thanks Sam) your poet soul conjured up. I can only say that I love you, and hope that it’s enough.</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Love, D</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Castiel had managed to lower himself to the footstool, thick tears streaming down his face and spotting the silk of his tie. The notebook paper trembled in his hands, smooth and worn from living for god knows how long in Dean’s pocket, smudged with grease and Cheeto dust and who even knew what else. Castiel looked up into the mirror and had to look away. It wasn’t Dean who wrecked his perfect day. It was him for being selfish enough to make Dean think it was <em>only</em> Castiel’s day and making him feel like his love wouldn’t live up to Castiel’s lofty expectations. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He sniffed hard, wiping at his face with the heel of his hand and stood abruptly, clamoring out of the room and looking back and forth down the long hallway of the farmhouse turned bridal - well in this case groom’s - suite. He ran towards the back stairs, nearly slipping down them in his dress shoes and rushed frantically from the sitting room where the rest of the wedding party was assembling to begin their procession out to the barn. He skidded to the kitchen and then another sitting room.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Someone called his name behind him but his hand landed on the knob of a closed door and he twisted it open, finding Dean glancing over his shoulder into the full-length mirror to get a look at his ass. Castiel stepped in and slammed the door shut behind him just as Dean caught sight of him in the mirror. He turned, eyes wide in question before he yelped and snapped his eyes shut, clapping his hands over them for good measure.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You said I’m not supposed to see you!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Fuck that.” Castiel was across the room, hands wrapping around Dean’s wrists and pulling to reveal the most beautiful green eyes he’d ever seen. When he glanced down at where Castiel held him by the wrists his lashes cast shadows on his freckled cheeks, plush bottom lip snagging between his teeth.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You read my letter...” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Castiel looked down, finding the paper tucked against his palm with his pinky and ring finger, using his forefinger and thumb to grip Dean. Castiel sniffled and Dean’s face went blank in alarm, shaking off his hold to grab on to Castiel’s face, thumbs running over the wet tracks on his cheeks.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What’s wrong?” Dean asked, his voice low with dread. “Is it the flowers in the barn? are they wilting? Do we need to do pictures now? I’m ready.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Dean took a step to the side like he was going to usher Castiel out the door and Castiel just dropped his chin and sobbed. hands coming to cover his face.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>If Dean was alarmed before, he was absolutely panicking now. “Fuck, Cas, what is it? Who did it? I’ll kill them.” Dean’s fingers tightened at Castiel’s biceps and Castiel gripped his elbows to steady himself.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It was me,” Castiel practically wailed, hating himself for his dramatics but dammit he was a <em>poet</em> he couldn’t just turn that off and on. “I’ve wrecked everything, Dean. I can’t believe I did this to you.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Dean blinked, mouth falling open and he looked around the room as if he might find an answer tucked somewhere. His brow furrowed and he licked his lips as he tilted his head down trying to snag Castiel’s gaze. “I’m sorry, what now?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You... you wanted to go to V-Vegas.” Castiel was hiccuping now, the letter now tucked in his fist that laid against Dean’s chest, smushing his boutonniere.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Dean let out a surprised burst of laughter. “Babe, I don’t give a shit. You know that.” He rubbed his hands up and down Castiel’s arms, face crumpling in concern when Castiel’s mournful blue eyes met his.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“This isn’t just <em>my</em> big day, Dean. It’s supposed to be <em>ours.</em> And I...” Castiel looked around the room as if lost. “I just-”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hey, it <em>is</em> ours,” Dean’s eyes held Castiel’s and gave a short nod of his head. “I just want you to be happy. You’re happy I’m happy.” Dean gave a more authoritative nod and Castiel didn’t think he could possibly feel worse but that did it, more tears gushing down his face. Dean was back to panicking.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I-I-I didn’t mean to m-m-make you feel inf-f-ferior. Your letters were... were wonderful.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“They sucked pretty bad,” Dean chuckled, wiping at Castiel’s face again and Castiel shook his head adamantly. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“This.” He held up his fist, the folded paper peeking out from under his fingers and Dean’s face went blank, eyeing his hand and swallowing hard. “This is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever read.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Oh come on, Cas,” Dean tried to pull away, his ears going blood red, neck and cheeks pinkening too but Castiel held fast.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You are certainly worthy of me, Dean Winchester.” Castiel sniffled, shoving the letter in his pocket before gripping Dean’s face hard and lancing him with an ethereal blue stare that made Dean’s entire body go lax, his beautiful face turning soft and fond. “Your love is the only thing I will ever need and I need it like I need air. It will always be enough. <em>You</em> are enough. And I definitely don’t deserve someone as kind and patient and nurturing-”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Dean waved a hand cutting him off with a smirk though his face was quite red now. “Yeah you do, you just got stuck with me instead.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Dean grinned at him almost bashful and Castiel huffed out a watery laugh, letting his forehead fall forward to rest against Dean’s chin. Dean’s lips pressed warmly to his temple before he pulled him in for a hug that nearly had Castiel in hysterics again. <em>God</em> how he’d missed him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Oh,” Dean said after a moment, shifting so he could slip a hand into his pocket and Castiel looked down to find him pulling out a folded yellow post-it note.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Castiel looked at it in absolute horror. “Oh my <em>god,</em> Dean. I am <em>so sorry</em>. You wrote me this beautiful, soul-bearing letter and I gave you a fucking snarky post-it about your genitals.” Castiel made to grab for it, attempting to crumple it in his palm but Dean hastily grabbed his wrist and hand.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Okay, one, what have I said about using the word <em>genitals?” </em>Castiel looked down at his feet and mumbled something incoherent that sounded contrite so he missed Dean smothering his grin. “And, two, this was <em>the best</em> fucking thing... probably ever.” Dean shook his head and laughed, finally plucking it from Castiel’s fingers. “I mean, if this doesn’t prove I’m a terrible influence on you then I don’t know if anything else can.” Dean flicked it before tucking it back into his pocket.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“But I did it on <em>our wedding day</em>,” Castiel whined, shame burning hot in the back of his throat and Dean’s delighted laugh was severely at odds with what Castiel thought Dean should be feeling.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“God, that makes it even better.” Dean chuckled spastically and shook his head. “Look, babe.” Dean grabbed his arms again, forcing Castiel to look into his eyes, pausing to smudge a knuckle against Castiel’s cheek just to try and get him to shift out of sheer misery. “You wrote me twenty-nine epic love letters. <em>Twenty-nine.”</em> Dean’s eyes were wide and astonished, mouth slightly agape. “I cried every fucking <em>day</em> this month, you asshole.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Castiel perked up, giving a soft sniffle. “Really?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Dean rolled his eyes. “Yes, really. Your weird kink for making people cry is honestly the only unattractive thing about you.” Dean gave a dramatic sigh and Castiel couldn’t help but grin.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I love you, Dean. I’m sorry I’ve been crazy about this stupid day. It doesn’t matter. None of this bullshit matters,” Castiel looked down at his tie, still backwards and angrily tried to right it but it only flopped backwards again.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Dean gave a soft chuckle. “I know, Cas and there’s nothing to be sorry about.” Dean undid the knot at Castiel’s throat and situated the two sides of his tie against his chest before he began the loop. “We’re gonna have the best kick-off-” Dean leaned in to peck Castiel’s lips, coaxing a small smile out of the poet. “-to the best marriage-” Dean pecked his lips again. “-with the hottest sex-” Dean’s next kiss was more of them laughing into each other’s mouths. “-and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Dean leaned back to shift the knot of Castiel’s tie up against his throat, looking at it critically before holding up his hands and gesturing as if to say “ta-da!” He stepped aside, shifting so he was behind Castiel at his shoulder so Castiel could see himself, see them both really. Castiel’s breath caught in his throat, begging his mind to freeze this frame in his memory forever while what felt like a hundred sonnets began whirling through his brain, making his fingers itch for a pen. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Dean’s arms slipped around Castiel’s waist, eyes holding on his in the mirror as he rested his chin on Castiel’s shoulder. He swayed them gently from side to side, the movement soothing and Castiel turned his head to nuzzle at the hair at Dean’s temple before puckering his lips against the skin there.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Tell me you love me,” Castiel breathed and felt Dean shiver, pulling his head back just enough so that he could look Castiel in the eyes.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I love you.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Castiel’s lips curled up into a smile, sparking a grin that spread across Dean’s face as well when Castiel replied, “I know.”</p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Reviews/Kudos are &lt;3</p><p>  <a href="https://deanwinchesterfirstofhisname.tumblr.com">Visit me on Tumblr</a><br/></p></blockquote></div></div>
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